Resolutions and Realizations
by CharmingNotDarling
Summary: She nods, smiles through a shallow laugh. Grateful and disappointed and embarrassed all at once. It's all the affirmation he needs to understand her mind was strolling shadowy pathways he only wishes he were ready to follow her down. A New Years fic for Starry19


Resolutions and Realizations

A/N: A New Year's fic for Starry19…

The call comes in six minutes to midnight.

Which is, coincidentally, six minutes before the official start to the New Year and unfortunately six minutes before her teams is officially off duty. The droning of the cell phones vibration setting breaks the barrier of silence that's long since settled within the confines of the bullpen. It bleeds through the brick and mortar of office walls and the wooden slates of drawn shades.

There's nowhere to hide.

She lifts the phone but does not answer, wishing so fiercely for the courage to allow the demanding buzz to run head first into her voicemail, beg off the missed call with a trip to the coffee pot or ladies room. She's the only one present, obviously without plans, so it's not her own night she's worried after but the night belonging to the other members of her unit. Her dedicated and selfless team who, after the last few weeks, are in dire need of a night of celebration.

"You gonna answer that?" She looks up with a start, the all too familiar voice doing nothing to calm her nerves, and finds her doorway filled with a rather stunningly handsome Patrick Jane. His presents and appearance work in tandem to surprise her. She had no idea he was still lurking within the building.

And no idea he could look so appealing.

His hair perfectly placed, untouched by his own wandering fingers. Gone is the ever present three piece suit and in its place a tuxedo done in time-honored black. All the scene is lacking is the traditional black bow tie. But it's been tastefully replaced with a length of knotted, golden silk.

Her eyes go wide and her lips part in surprise, the smirk he issues in response breaks the spell his appearance has cast and before the phone rants for the last time she reflexively accepts the call.

"Lisbon." Her answer is part bark, part growl and it most definitely conveys the emotion behind her decision to answer. Her eyes however hold a separate conversation and the expression within them can only be described as a demand for answers to her unspoken questions.

His grin turns up an additional notch as he watches the disappointment settle within the set of her shoulders and the curiosity warring with the surprise in her eyes.

She takes notes feverishly, looking up every few seconds to watch his progress into the sanctuary that was her office. He does not sit or fidget, only comes to stand before her, behind the chairs that are mirroring her own seated position. His eyes are roaming her desk, his mind summoning assumptions for her need to bring in the New Year from behind the shuttered confines of her office, all alone.

The air is so still and the room so quiet he can hear the rattling off of directions through the muffling curtain of her hair as it blocks her phone and the curve of her face from his view.

"Yeah I got it. Uh-huh. Okay. ETA 35 minutes." She uses more force than necessary to end the call and only heightens the pressure to execute the next connection. As she scrolls her contacts and finds Cho's name she addresses Jane without making eye contact. She's afraid if she does indeed take in the sight of him she'll once again forget how to inhale.

"I'm not sure I want to know where you've been or where you think you're going," with the hand that does not hold the phone she makes an unnecessarily grand gesture in his general direction as her eyebrows raise high enough to disappear within the gentle sweep of her inky hair. "But it's not quite tomorrow so we're on the clock." Finally her eyes lift and find his, it takes a moment for him to align his sight and focus. She is startled to find him scrolling his own phone, presumably his contacts.

"I will assume you're calling Cho. I'll call Ribsby which will leave no need to call Van Pelt." His eyes brighten and the smirk he walked in with returns to his face as he lifts his phone to his ear and turns for the door.

Cho answers on the second ring. He dutifully takes notes and responds to her voice in a manner matching the tone of affirmation she gave dispatch only moments before. Only for him these are the norm. If he's annoyed or put out by being called into work at this hour on this day he makes no mention and gives no tell of any kind.

With her phone call over she stands to follow, stopping only long enough to drag the sticky note from the safety of its platoon and grab her gun and badge from the desk drawer. Her mind is swimming with an unhealthy number of unanswered questions. Many of which there was no need to ask only a few moments before. And they most definitely include, but are not limited to, some clarification as far as why Van Pelt and Rigsby would be together at this hour.

And of course as to why Jane is dressed as if he's attending the governor's ball.

She makes a mad dash for the hall, forgetting her jacket in her hast, not wanting to be left behind but more importantly wanting explanations she's pretty sure no amount of demanding will produce. She knows he'll never tell just as he's expecting her to ask regardless.

The click of his phone closing can be heard over the march of her heels as she comes around corner and stops before him where's waiting for the elevator.

"Rigsby and Van Pelt? Again?" She asks before looking up from her phone. She's managed to send the address and coordinates to the three other members of the team. Dispatch assured her they would take care of the rest.

But when she finally looks up at him, taking in the sight of the timeless attire now complete with a cashmere scarf whose hue reminds her of the inner curve of a wave washed seashell, the idea of Rigsby and Van Pelt sleeping together, again, slinks slowly to a far corner of her mind.

She reaches out, uninvited, and slips the edge of his scarf between her thumb and forefinger. The cashmere is two ply, soft as silk and smooth like melted butter.

"I think history has shown it's better to leave some stones unturned." His voice brings her back but she does not immediately let her hand fall away. His words finally penetrate and they filter through her wondering daydream and create a meaning she's sure he can't be privy to. He watches the confusion and hurt spar along the lines of her expression.

Once silent soldiers through her quiet war are now screaming sirens, defining and hopeless.

"Rigsby and Van Pelt." He guides softly, positive now her mind was somewhere other than the present.

She nods, smiles through a shallow laugh. Grateful and disappointed embarrassed all at once. It's all the affirmation he needs to understand her mind was strolling shadowy pathways he only wishes he were ready to follow her down.

"You've forgotten your jacket. I'll be right back." He strolls away, giving them both a moment to digest what's just transpired between them.

He returns and she's just as he's left her. The only change he can see in the cast of her hair, it's been riffled through and shoved at, he's sure of it. He finds himself wishing, wanting for things he cannot in this moment have.

The words to make this better, the actions to do the same.

She looks to him then, just a small shift as she turns her face over her right shoulder, his approach demanding her attention. He holds the jacket out behind her, acting out the part of the gentleman he knows he looks.

Her smile is softer, more generic and it's what they both need right now, he knows this, more so than she does he's sure, but that doesn't mean it doesn't leave him feeling a little less full.

He slips the blazer over her arms and allows himself the pleasure of settling it along her frame. He reaches to indulge in releasing her hair from the collar and in that moment she shifts to do the same. Their fingers brush and for a tantalizing second her fluid advance forms a grip along his hold. There's no flaw in their movements, neither falter nor pause. Should there be a witness to the exchange he's sure there'd be nothing to see. But he knows the subtle, effortless gesture is full beyond saturation.

There's a small sound from somewhere within the bullpen, a bell, a ping perhaps, bringing attention to the time and the beginning of a new year.

They enter the elevator, ignoring the sound, the time, the need they both know.

"You, uh, make a resolution this year?" She asks almost immediately upon entering the elevator. Silence is a great instigator and he knows she cannot be left in its presents for long.

"A few." He smiles and without looking she knows it's charming, can't help but smile back.

"Anything you'd like to share?" She turns slightly, her knuckles brushing the back of his hand. Her hands go immediately to her pockets and he knows it was not consciously done.

"Not particularly, no."

"Why's that?"

"Because then they won't come true."

"That's wishes Jane, no resolutions." She gives a gentle eye roll, a small smile.

"Well then I guess you could say this year they're one and same."

Her heart flips over in her chest as the elevator comes to halt along the ground floor. The typically evasive response does not, for once, generate the typical reaction from her. For once, instead of the lost and sinking feeling he's regularly responsible for, she's perfectly aware of where she is. For once the water is shallow enough to stand should she need. But for the moment she's content to let her heart fill and simply float.


End file.
